


My tears are becoming the sea

by Webtrinsic



Category: Iron Man (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, Spider-Man (Tom Holland Movies), Spider-Man - All Media Types
Genre: Anxiety, Anxiety Attacks, Anxiety Disorder, Anxious Peter Parker, Depressed Peter Parker, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Father-Son Relationship, Medication, Minor Original Character(s), Panic Attacks, Parent Tony Stark, Peter Parker is Tony Stark's Biological Child, Precious Peter Parker, Protective Tony Stark, Self-Destruction, Sensory Overload, Triggers, not accurate to any mental health
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-04
Updated: 2019-08-04
Packaged: 2020-07-30 17:08:48
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,214
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20100691
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Webtrinsic/pseuds/Webtrinsic
Summary: When Peter struggles with the monsters in his head, his father is there to help pick up the pieces.





	My tears are becoming the sea

**Author's Note:**

> forwarning this is not an accurate depiction of mental health, so beware and read at ur own risk if you are sensitive to these types of things

Red rimmed brown eyes shimmered with tears, tears that tore down soft cheeks and a sharp jawline, blood congealing in the column of his thin throat. Crimson splotching from his sliced temple and nicked brow, his clustered mind forcing him to beat his head against his desk. 

He could hear his father’s footsteps running down the hall, calloused hands fumbling hard with the doorknob to no avail, the dresser he’d pushed against it kept it shut. The teen was a little crestfallen he’d lose some nice clothes, but his dad would replace them.

The door and the dresser exploded in a second, Dad in the door panting with his gauntleted hand out. Eyes wide and terrified before he rushed in, Peter didn’t squawk or squeal as he was abruptly lifted into the man’s arms.

Long kisses were pressed to his hair, whispers Peter couldn’t make out frantically being said and repeated into his curls. He’d heard all the comforts before, every once in a while his dad would surprise him with the assurances said. Today wasn’t one of those times, and if it was Peter couldn’t hear it over the warbling drowning abyss his shell-shocked mind was submerging him in.

As they entered their own little infirmary, Helen met them, flashing the same old penlight in his eyes. Applying butterfly bandages to his cuts after she determined they weren’t serious enough for stitches and handing off the antiseptic wipes to his father.

It was the same routine, Peter so worked up, whether it be because of his anxiety or something else, his father picking up the pieces. Hence the soft cloth of the wipes bleeding over his skin, the white turning pink and then red. 

“What happened sweetheart?” The question wasn’t as soft as it used to be when this all started, Peter may be desensitized to it by now but he was sure his father wasn’t. His dad was the only reason he tried to not fall out into his spirals.

The problem was he just couldn’t, the panic would set in and he couldn’t breathe. Surely his father understood, he had too.

“I-I, my head,” the teen gulped, not even knowing what set off the little pit of monster in him that told him to hurt himself. To lash out, feel something other than fear and self-loathing. 

“I know bambi,” Tony had expected this, the doctor had lowered the teen’s dosages so Peter wouldn’t be as dependent on them and actually help quell some of his anxiety. But Peter was struggling hard because of it. Hell, it was hard for him too. 

But Tony would clean his son’s wounds, kiss the crown of his head, make sure the teen felt safe, loved and cared for. There wasn’t anything he wouldn’t do for the boy, he was his world.

“I’m sorry,” the teen apologized, face digging into the older man’s throat. 

“I know, we’re going to set up another appointment with Doctor Wilson okay?” The boy nodded at that too, curling his legs up to place them in the older man’s lap giving his father leverage to carry him out of the room.

“Why don’t we eat and go to bed?”

“Okay,”

\---

Tony let his eyes roam over the shaking figure coming back out of the therapist’s office, Peter respectfully giving Dr. Wilson a hand shake before Tony got to his feet and met with the man. His son curling into his side, thin arms wrapping around his bicep.

“Mr. Stark, lovely to see you. I just wanted to let you know these reactions to a drop in medication are perfectly normal, and if you or Peter feel the need to have sooner appointments. I’ll see what I can do, but I do think Peter’s normal scheduling will still be beneficial,”

“Alright, I'll make sure to get in contact if we have any other worrisome developments, thank you for your time Doctor,” Tony concluded easily, running an arm up and down his son’s back before they began the trek back to the car.

“I’m sorry,” the teen whispered, the adult immediately stopping in his tracks at those two words. Turning quickly to pull his son into a tight embrace before cradling his cheeks so Peter couldn’t look away.

“Bambi you didn’t do anything wrong, I know it’s hard right now. But I am so proud of you, always. And I will never be mad about your appointments, or anything else you do to help yourself as long as it doesn’t hurt you. Peter sweetheart, you’re my everything, and you don’t need to apologize, not to me, not even to yourself. Okay?”

Tears cut down the boy’s cheeks, the urge to hide from his father’s intense gaze was strong but he couldn’t with his dad’s warm hands still cupping his face. His padded thumbs wiping away tears in quick succession, a honking car ruining the moment. Peter had completely forgotten their little heart to heart was going on in the middle of a crowded parking lot. But his dad continued to look down at him, waiting for a confirmation.

Unable to speak, the teen nodded, anxiety creeping up on him as a honk hit the air and Peter knew his father could tell.

“C’mon Petey Pie, let’s go home,” The snort that followed from the boy’s mouth was involuntary, a quizzical and gleeful smile on his face as his dad opened the car door and he slid in.

“Petey Pie?”

“What? You don’t like it?” The elder Stark teased, shutting the door and rounding around until he slid into the driver’s seat.

“Dad if you call me that. I’m going to go into cardiac arrest,” The teen laughed, Tony basking in the calm of the moment when his whole week had been full of worry and concern.

“You realize I‘m the one with the heart problems, not hereditary mind you, I got blown up. So I don’t think you’re going to have a heart attack if I call you Petey Pie,” Loud laughter filled the car then, only to choke slightly when the boy seemed to take hold of something he’d said.

“I’m sorry you got blown up,”

“Peter what’d I say about apologizing for things you had nothing to do with?”

“Don’t do it unless its out of courtesy-But I think this-”

“Nope, I’m fine. You know that sweetie, now hush your head. We’re going to go home and watch your favorite movie!” Peter’s head didn’t hush, but the offered arm given to him was enough to help push the bad feelings down, the promise of watching Star Wars helped too.

\---

Peter was grateful he was on break, the world was loud enough with his super senses but he couldn’t imagine how grating a mass of kids would be. The scrape of pencils, the nasally breathing, the rubbing of erasers, and the crinkling of paper and- the teen shook his head.

Not wanting to hear the phantom sounds of the classroom, he pushed himself up from the cocoon of his sheets. It calling him back as the prickles in the carpet bruised the soles of his feet. A sensory overload, Peter could tell it was coming. It’d practically already started.

His silk sheets scrunched as he finally let the last inch of cloth fall from his skin. Standing on wobbly legs. His dad was out of town, he’d been reluctant to go but Peter had insisted he’d be alright on his own.

Peter hated being wrong, hated how he’d now fled to his father's room to cuddle into his bed and put on his dirty clothes from the hamper because they smelled like him. 

“Peter, your father is calling, would you like me to answer?” Friday asked from above, having informed her creator of Peter’s shift in attitude. The boy nodded with teary eyes, knowing if he didn’t answer or say no she’d push the call through anyway.

“Pete? Is everything okay?” his dads crooning voice came through the ceiling, soft and considerate. Likely aware he was on the verge of a break.

“I’m okay,” the teen dismissed, pulling up the collar of his fathers worn ACDC shirt and inhaling. 

“Friday says you’re on the edge,” the boy nodded at that, getting a soft hum in response meaning Friday must have relayed the action.

“I can be home in around six hours if I leave now Peter. Do you need me home?” No matter how guilty Peter felt, he nodded. The ache for comfort too strong, he’d likely have the overload just as soon as the call ended. But it’d be over by the time his father got home, so at least then he could hug him.

Tony startled at the answer, kicking into high gear to pack his things because Peter had never once asked him to come home early. Always too embarrassed or remorseful, guilty, even when he assured the teen he was happy to come and help.

“I’m on the way sweetheart, I’ll be there soon okay? If you need anything let Fri know, DumE can bring you food, I’ll be there soon Bambi. It’s going to be okay,” Tony rambled as he shoved his suits in his suitcase. Uncaring if they creased, it's not like he didn’t have others back at home.

“Love you,” the boy murmured, ready for the call to end so he could fish through his father’s bedside drawer where a sleeping mask and some sound blocking headphones were stored the same way they were in his own room.

“I love you too Bambi, more than you know,” Peter smiled at the comment, a sense of relief flooding him as he then slipped on the headphones and secured the sleeping mask to his face. Opting not to search out for a nose plug, he was happier with his nose buried in his father’s scent.

The call ended and Tony began his way home, pleased he’d actually gotten through all his meetings and wouldn't be missing any because neither Pepper or Peter would have been pleased with that. That didn’t mean he didn’t feel guilty for not being there to help his son further. It was miraculous Peter had asked for him, Peter even had trouble doing that when he was little. 

“I’m coming bambi, I’m coming,” the man told himself as he checked out of his hotel, drove to the airport, and boarded his plane.

His son at home crying silently and being swept up in sleep so his senses could calm.

\---

By the time Tony was walking through the door, he was dropping his bag off in the entrance. Slipping off his shoes to make less sound as he cantered back to his room, popping the door open and peering in.

Peter was drowned in his blankets, his headphones askew leaving one ear out. 

“Bambi?” Tony asked softly to test the waters, but Peter didn’t stir meaning the worst of it was over. Stepping in, Tony carefully removed the headphones, and ran a hand through the sweat matted curls.

The sleeping body keened, nuzzling into the touch causing a fond smile to light up the older man’s face. He quickly removed his dress pants and shirt, slipping on another dirty shirt from the hamper before sliding in and tucking his son close to his chest.

Tony followed the teen into sleep, only waking when he felt Peter push at his chest. He let go, watching blearily as Peter sat up and meandered to the restroom. The flushing and pattern of the sink loud, especially compared to Peter’s silence.

Peter never made noise when he walked, always so light on his feet. Tony’s only alert to the boy’s presence was the covers rustling and the mattress dipping as Peter’s wiry frame crawled back up and slipped back in his spot beneath his chin.

“Feeling better?” Tony asked roughly, arms coiling back around the boy’s back.

“Mhm,” Pleased with the answer, Tony buried his face in his sons curls and went back to sleep.

\---

Tony couldn’t remember the last time he’d seen the boy’s shoulders slump with the lack of tension. Nor did he remember Peter cuddling into his side just for the fun of it and not because he was looking for comfort.

He’d had a session with Doctor Wilson the other day, and Peter’s dosage was put at a stand still now that he was adjusting well. A progress they were all relieved with.

“How are you feeling now that school starts next week?” Tony asked, cutting the pizza he’d slipped from the oven.

“I’m a little worried, but Ned will be there. I think I’ll be okay,”

“I know you will Pete,” The man assured, sliding a large slice over to the boy before ruffling his hair.

“Do you think we can go on a patrol soon?” Peter then asked, the phantom feeling of his suit on his skin itched. He missed it.

“Yeah, we can do that,” Tony sighed, pleased with the invitation rather than Peter going out on his own and potentially panicking.

“I’ll get changed!” The spider cheered, running off before Tony could stop him. Placing the leftover pieces of pizza in the microwave, Tony activated his suit, letting Peter latch onto his ankle before they flew off into the night.


End file.
